Heart - a prefix series
by Cat Avatar for the DCG
Summary: Melancholy Kid/Law (I hesitate to go so far as to call it angst). No action, just a short character sketch. Rating is for a few expletives, everything interesting happens between the lines. Now more finished with more chapters. Perpetually finished/in progress, I guess.
1. Heart less

**Heart [-less]**

It was raining, so Kid skipped his normal jacket, grabbing a more boring wool bridge coat. It was water resistant, had a high collar, and, most importantly, was something you might see any sailor wearing at any dock. And no one on the ship would question Kid wearing it, because of the weather; that was nice, because he hated ducking into alleys to _disguise himself_. It made the entire thing even more pitiful and ridiculous than it already was.

The city was gray in the rain, dreary and wet, the bar he slipped into dark and dreamless. Or maybe he was projecting. He'd told himself again and again he would stop this. That he'd throw away that transponder snail, that he was too proud, too self-respecting — if nothing else, too downright _mean_ to do this again. He told himself that every day. Then Trafalgar would call, and tell him where to meet, and he'd come like a trained dog, not a wild, mean thing at all. Domesticated.

His self-pitying musing was thankfully interrupted by a familiar feeling. Kid slipped his hand into the pocket, fingering the key that'd appeared before pulling out the note that'd come with it. He took the last few pulls off his ale as he tried to decipher the handwriting. Kid was barely educated, but even he wrote more legibly than this. Doctors, what the hell.

He finally figured out the directions, but ordered another drink. He reasoned that Trafalgar didn't like it when he was right behind him; although he'd not seen the man enter or leave the bar, he'd had to have been there to slip him the key. Kid'd let him get some lead time, get to the room. That's how he excused himself, anyway. It was just that, though. An excuse. Kid was really trying to show his independence. _"See,"_ he was saying — _"I'm not trotting right along like a pet."_ He wasn't fooling himself, though, so how the fuck would it fool Trafalgar? Who probably wouldn't even care, either way.

"Fuck this."

Slamming back the rest of the rum, he slapped the payment on the bar and slunk back out into the rain. The inn was only a few blocks down the road; a particular type that Trafalgar favored. Instead of having a large building with rooms inside or upstairs, they would have the rooms in a long row, each opening out into the night. They were made for crime, or assignations, it seemed to Kid — whoever'd come up with them was a shifty bastard, no doubt about it. And this way Trafalgar had even less chance of being seen with him, of course, so that had to make him happy.

Kid fit the key into the lock and knocked twice lightly before opening it. He didn't want to arouse anyone in the adjoining rooms, if there were any, but his experience was that it was always best not to surprise men with hair trigger tempers. He was one, himself, and he had a habit of sending knives flying at the door if he didn't expect it. It'd saved his life at least twice, so the crew could live with it.

He opened the door and ducked inside, trying to shake his jacket off a bit as he came.

"Don't bother." Kid looked over at Trafalgar, who was pouring a drink with one hand while he pointed with the other. "There is a little washroom over there. Just hang the coat over the basin."

Draping his dark bandanna over the rod with the coat, Kid toed off his boots, and, after consideration, removed his shirt as well. Walking back out of the little nook, he accepted a drink and sat down on the rough wooden stool opposite Trafalgar at the small table. It seemed this was going to be a night for talking, first. In a way, those were the best nights, but awful, too.

When it'd been sex, dirty and hard and … impersonal, really — when it'd just been fucking, at the beginning — Kid'd been fine. He'd thought he could handle it. And he could! But then there had been the other nights, creeping in with more and more frequency. Nights of shooting the shit and getting stupid and giggly and maudlin… Of getting to know Trafalgar. Of _falling in love_ with him.

It was an attack from a blind-side, a flank Kid didn't even know existed. Who would guess someone as selfish and cruel as him could fall in love? They say even bad men love their mothers, but Kid would cheerfully slit the bitch's throat, were she miraculously resurrected and in front of him today. He was an unrepentantly self-serving bastard who wouldn't bother to cross the road to piss on a man on fire. Something like love, what the hell?

Sure, he loved his crew, and he'd kill anyone who crossed them, but this, this sort of drowning helplessness… He never would have thought it was something he could even feel, something he needed to worry about, defend against...

* * *

Kid reached for his other bracelet, clasping it around his wrist. Trafalgar slept soundly, belying the rings under his eyes, so Kid wasn't worried about waking him. Unless he started making real noise or some killing intent in here, Trafalgar was going to sleep like the dead. He'd thought the man was faking, the first couple of times, but it was apparent he wasn't.

This was the worst part. Getting his stuff together to sneak off into the pre-dawn, while his lover slept, uncaring. Not that having Trafalgar awake would make this any easier, that he would care more. The leaving-before-dawn thing was his rule, after all. One of his _many_ rules. Rules that Kid followed, because even if all he got was scraps, it was better than nothing at all.

Trafalgar didn't love him, surely. Who would, who _could_ , after all, Kid being who he was. He didn't blame Trafalgar for not loving him. Kid didn't blame him even for continuing to use him when it must be obvious Kid'd fallen in love. After all, Kid had made himself obviously available for the use. Wanted it, even.

Someday, a day too soon — because any day was too soon, and he could feel the nervous energy pouring off Trafalgar when they held one another, could put together the cues in his tipsy ramblings… Soon, Trafalgar was going to call it quits with Kid. Shake his hand, maybe, _"no hard feelings,"_ perhaps. And he'd go on to his revenge on " _that Man."_

Kid would have to learn live without him, without this part of his life he didn't even know he'd been missing, six months ago. Except now he couldn't remember how that life before had worked.

Trafalgar was collecting hearts, for his plan — he didn't say why, but he had a gruesome collection of pirates hearts, he'd confided one drunken night, giggling. Kid wondered if he could talk him into taking his with him, when this was over. That way some part of him, at least, could stay. Could be with Trafalgar. Maybe it would hurt less, if he didn't have his heart.

Gathering his coat, Kid left the key on the table and stepped out into the cold drizzle, making his way back to his ship and his crew, alone.

* * *

AN: I got this kind of melancholy feeling from a couple of the awesome doujinshi that amaitsumi had scanlated, and decided to make words of it. In particular, the _"Before Dawn"_ and _"Tangible Emotions"_ part of _"Days"_ by 吾郎. (Who is just the most incredible artist, I'm like, in awe of how cool that person portrays Kid and Law. _"His Special Right"_ is so~ my super~ duper~ favorite3 and I have it separately bookmarked for when I want a cute pick-me-up.)

I got into this crack-ship in the first place because guk and Doctor CYANce are compelling writers. So: All their fault, I accept no blame.

I might have a follow up in mind. A chapter two, as it were. Kind of with a protective crew (who picked up a lot more than Kid thought because subtle he ain't) who are all like — "God, no, it's that submarine! Turn the ship around, we don't need supplies that badly, he's just starting to get back to normal!"


	2. Heart beat

**Heart [beat]**

In his defense, it was a very hard fought battle, worthy of the New World. Killer himself had gotten sliced up like sashimi; Doc had been all but scornful as he'd stitched and bandaged in the infirmary of their new base.

Still though, he'd meant to stick with the captain. Captain had been… distracted, for the past while. Withdrawn and given to uncharacteristic silences. Killer would say moping if that didn't sound so fucking wimpy.

He couldn't blame the Surgeon of Death, he told himself, as he waited by Captain's bedside for him to regain consciousness. Captain was a grown-ass man, they were on the most dangerous ocean in the world, and fighting for their lives was an everyday occurrence.

He _shouldn't_ blame Trafalgar-fucking-Law for Captain's arm. He still did. That man was nothing but bad news. And a Warlord, now, to boot. If Killer, or, more importantly, Captain, never saw him again, they'd all be better off.

Maybe it was time he told Captain so.

* * *

N.B. Kid's nom de guerre is "Captain," but no-one ever seems to use it. So.

Super short drabble chapter 1.5-ish thing. I couldn't get the protective crew to flow into a proper story.


	3. Heart felt

**Heart [+felt]**

Law was well pleased with the way things were going. Smoothly. According to plan, even. He'd probably found an "in" on the research facility, too. If he were given to cheery whistling, perhaps he'd do so while he walked the streets of the port.

It was a large island, and he had been inland for almost a month. It was… _nice_ , really, to smell the sea properly again. And raw sewage, and rotting seaweed, and fish entrails… So, actually, the stench of the port itself was not so pleasant. But Law found he was anticipating the day — hopefully within the year — that he could return to _his_ submarine.

Which was amazing, in some respects. He'd become a pirate as a means to an end, but, at some point, it had become an end of it's own. He _was_ a pirate, now, for better or for worse. When he finished up this business, (he refused to think, _if he survived_ ), he'd probably set course for Raftel and the One Piece, which was just…

" _Odd, what one becomes strangely attached to."_ And, to speak — or think — of the devil, if he wasn't gravely mistaken, that huge redhead that had ducked into a shop down the way was none other than Eustass Kid. Law had not seen Eustass, (or considering the nature of their relationship, seen _Kid_ ), for what was nearing a year. It was even more strange to consider he had missed the man, but there it was. There was no denying the way his thoughts had turned to him, time and again, this past year, nor mistaking the thrill of pleasure he'd felt upon glimpsing him here.

Thinking about it, though, there was no reason to deny himself this. They'd parted amicably enough; things being as they were, Law could probably just ask if the man had the time to spend the night. Himself, he was at ends, as it were, until his connection to Caesar Clown either came through or fell out — hence idly strolling about.

So, he would wait for Kid, then ask him for his company this fine evening. Possessed of a plan — perhaps even a good one, Law leaned against a wall in the less filthy of the alleyways beside the shop Kid had chosen to patronize and composed himself to patience.

Perhaps unfortunately, the little shop was nothing seedier than a tinker's; Law would have enjoyed teasing him. Getting to the point where one could poke fun at "Captain" Kid without a fight for one's life — there was another accomplishment, now that he thought about it.

He didn't have to wait long — Kid ducked out of the shop in moments, his coat sweeping behind him like a cape as he walked right past Law's little alley without a glance. "Fairly careless, Eustass. Why, there could have been a Warlord waiting to ambush you, right here." (The fact that he was one of the Seven Warlords, though he'd planned on it, still amused the hell out of Law.)

The broad back stopped, then slowly turned to face him and — "Kid! What the hell happened?"

The scars were shiny-new, all angry purples and reds. The prosthetic arm — _too soon, can't have healed,_ part of him whispers — is all naked metal struts and gears. " _At least I know why he was in a tinker's."_ The thought was ridiculous snark he's glad he didn't voice.

Kid glanced at him quickly then looked back down the street. "Should see t' other guy."

Law's fingers itched to see what — if anything — he could do. But it was a public street, if a quiet one. He lowered the hand he'd reached out, putting his fingers in his pocket to keep them from temptation. Time enough for that tonight.

"I would wager "the other guy" is dead." He earned a twitch of Kid's lips at that — a suppressed smile, or, more likely, smirk. Law leaned a little closer, lowered his voice. "Perhaps you and I could go somewhere and get a drink? You could tell me all about it."

He had a bit of a sadistic streak, especially for revenge. If the one who did this wasn't already dead, Law is quite ready to spend some time with Kid, plotting how to make them beg for sweet release. He liked to think himself a bit of a connoisseur of vengeance.

But instead of acceding quickly, as he'd expected, Kid instead kept looking up and down the street. He was also worrying his bottom lip, and if Law didn't know any better, he'd think Kid was nervous. But that made no sense. In Law's experience, once you'd had your tongue in and around someone's anus, and vise-versa, any trepidation tended to fall by the wayside.

"I…" His voice trailed off. Kid hadn't even met his eyes properly. What the _hell_ was going on?

"Kid? What is it?" Law reached toward him again, and the man actually flinched back from him, minutely. He paused, and lowered his hand.

It seemed to be impetus, though, because Kid squared his shoulders and finally looked Law in the eye. "No. I _swore_ I wouldn't. So, I… gotta go."

Kid turned and walked away, and he let him go, stunned by what he'd seen. " _How long?"_

How long had that been there, in Kid's gaze? Because, now that he thought about it, Law was certain it'd been there before he'd broken off their arrangement.

A small smile bubbled up, irrepressibly. Law covered it with his hand, leaning back against the alleyway wall. Eustass Kid loved him. Was in love with him. He tried the words on in different combinations. None of them offended him, particularly. Or at all, really.

He was _fairly_ sure he didn't love Kid, now, but that didn't mean he couldn't. He was certainly very fond of the man, enough to miss him thoroughly.

" _Swore he wouldn't, huh?"_ Probably that overgrown nursemaid Kid complained about, Killer. (Though the irony of Law, of all people, calling another crew overprotective was not lost on him.)

It looked like Law had something else to do, when he finished this business, after all. More important than Raftel.

The grin widened into a full blown smirk, and Law pushed off the building to saunter towards the tavern he was renting a room from.

" _I don't give back hearts, Kid; what sort of pirate would I be if I gave up treasure? I stole it, or you gave it to me — it doesn't matter. Now it's mine, and I'll be coming back for it. Just you wait."_


End file.
